


A Matter of Perspective

by Thatmalu



Category: IT (1990), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: 1960s, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak Are Best Friends, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Canon Timeline, Child Death, Denial of Feelings, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Everyone Has Issues, False Accusations, First Kiss, First Time, Forced Relationship, Frottage, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Human Pennywise (IT), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Bill Denbrough Friendly, Not Canon Compliant, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Oblivious Richie Tozier, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Protective Bill Denbrough, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is Bad at Feelings, Richie Tozier is Not Heterosexual, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Sad Ending, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Slurs, Top Richie Tozier, Vietnam War, Writer Bill Denbrough, Young Adult Losers Club (IT), just warning you now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:56:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28732314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatmalu/pseuds/Thatmalu
Summary: Just as he was with Georgie, Bill was protective of Eddie. Sometimes he may have been overly so, but that’s just how big brothers were. Any chance that Eddie might be in danger, Bill was there to lead him to safety. Since the playground as school children, Bill promised to always be by Eddie’s side. When Georgie was just a thought in his parents mind, Bill had always had Eddie, and Eddie had always had him.Learning that he was getting Georgie in his life never changed that dynamic with Eddie. When Georgie was finally born, Bill made that clear when he brought Eddie over to look into the crib for the first time.Their little brother.Nothing would happen to either of them.Eddie would be safe.Georgie would be safe.God help anyone who hurt them.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris
Comments: 50
Kudos: 43





	1. Bill: Hands Off

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome. I’m gonna preface this entire fic with: I’m sorry. Really, I am.
> 
> While this fic takes some inspiration from the visual media, we meet our Losers at the book era, born in 47/48 and now living young adulthood in the 60s. 
> 
> Secondly, this is not a unique story — just a unique flare to a very sad story. And if you’ve seen the story this is based off and have a sinking feeling about what’s gonna happen — please don’t spoil in the comments! You’re free to DM or ask my IT tumblr @ fuckbitchesgetReddie 
> 
> But even if you know how that story goes, it’s gonna be a little different. I hope you enjoy(??)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill’s POV

*******

**1966**

As far as Bill Denbrough was concerned, he had always had two little brothers. It made no difference to him that one of them lived down the street. Nor did it matter that, technically — and Eddie would remind him this constantly — Eddie was older than Bill by four months. 

“Maybe when you stop needing a booster seat, I’ll stop calling you my little bro,” Bill would tease.

Just as he was with Georgie, Bill was protective of Eddie. Sometimes he may have been overly so, but that’s just how big brothers were. Any chance that Eddie might be in danger, Bill was there to lead him to safety. Since the playground as school children, Bill promised to always be by Eddie’s side. When Georgie was just a thought in his parents mind, Bill had always had Eddie, and Eddie had always had him. 

Learning that he was getting Georgie in his life never changed that dynamic with Eddie. When Georgie was finally born, Bill made that clear when he brought Eddie over to look into the crib for the first time.

 _Their_ little brother. 

Nothing would happen to either of them. 

Eddie would be safe. 

Georgie would be safe. 

God help anyone who hurt them.

The first time Bill had met Richie Tozier, a bad taste lingered in his mouth. The boy was _loud,_ obnoxious and… _handsy._ He didn’t like the way Richie would tease Eddie or pinch his cheeks. Eddie would constantly beg and plead Richie to leave him alone. To Bill’s great discomfort, Richie would just laugh, pinch Eddie’s cheeks again and say, “Cute, cute, cute.”

All of his actions felt predatory and dangerous. Watching Eddie be touched without his consent made Bill’s blood boil, and he often found himself snapping at Richie and nearly starting fights. At first, he let Eddie handle it on his own, because he knew Eddie hated to be babied; he got that enough from his mother. Not to mention Bill’s parents; they often encouraged both their boys to do well and behave so they could get into a prestigious school and make something of themselves. If Bill were to punch Richie in the face like he so wanted to, that could possibly hinder his ability to get into a good college. 

_A slippery slope,_ his father would say.

And Bill had a habit of falling too deeply into a bad thought, his mother would say. _Don’t let that boy get to you._

There was no way Bill could chance that. Being a writer would be hard enough and his parents' only reason for accepting such a career was because he wanted to go to a good school. Maybe having a good school behind his name would sell more books. And boy, did Bill want to write books. All he did when he wasn’t in school or hanging out with Eddie or Georgie was read and write and read and _write._

Particularly horror stories; Bill was enthralled in the stories of monsters.

But as they got older, Bill soon learned that the monsters in his books were nothing to be feared. 

People — terrible, malicious people — were the real monsters.

How does he stop a monster from hurting someone he loved?

“Bill, don’t _worry_ about it,” Eddie kept telling him. “Richie is harmless.”

It drove Bill crazy when Eddie said that. Excuses, excuses, _excuses._ Just like he had for his mother. Years went on of Eddie justifying the horrors in his mothers home, so it came to no surprise that he could possibly shrug off someone like Richie. Someone who seemed harmless because he could _get off a good one_ once in a while.

At least, Eddie had long been away from his mother now. The death of Sonia Kaspbrak was a blessing in disguise, something Bill frequently sent his praises to the universe for bringing. Under her care, Eddie was miserable and terrified. Many would whisper their distaste for Sonia, but no one had the guts to call it what it truly was: abuse. 

So at the tender age of sixteen, Eddie was welcomed into the Denbrough home. Even Richie laid off for a bit, though he did tell the inappropriate joke or two at her funeral. Over time, Eddie would begin to come out of his shell and embrace the freedoms his mother never granted him. Under the care of the Denbrough’s, he was encouraged as much as Bill and Georgie. He never thought he’d get into college, let alone ever _leave_ his mother’s home, so his acceptance letter to the same university as Bill came with great surprise.

Bill had never been as excited as he had been the day of their graduation. His parents — now, honorably, Eddie’s parents — had rented them a quaint home in town so that they could have privacy for their years of learning. It came with a luxurious yard and even a library to study. The property came with a lot of work, but there would be someone to take care of the mundane things for them. Taking out the trash. Tending to the lawn and garden. Treating the broken fence. These were things that the two young men didn’t need to bother spending time worrying about.

That was, until Bill came to the horrible realization about _who_ it was hired to do these things.

Without the prospect of college in mind, Richie found it necessary to work odd jobs to build up savings. This still did not satisfy how much he’d need to pay for a future after he graduated. So when he heard through the grapevine of their small town that Eddie and Bill would be renting property from old Mr. Bob Gray, he took it upon himself to apply for the property management. Along with the five other homes Mr. Gray had owned, Richie would be tending to Bill and Eddie’s.

Occasionally, Richie would make himself at home, hanging around Eddie when he was trying to study in the library. To Bill’s immense dismay, Eddie allowed it to go on without much complaint.

“Stop it, Richie. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Aw, Eds, c’mon. I’m just teasing—”

“He said fuck off, Richie,” Bill snapped. He ignored the crimson flush in Eddie’s cheeks as Eddie buried his face back in his book. Richie just grinned over at Bill and draped his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, churning _heat_ in Bill’s stomach.

“Wassamatta, Big Bill? Am I disrupting your concentration?”

“Constantly,” Bill said firmly. “Eddie and I actually have something going for us. You don’t need to waste Eddie’s time because you’re wasting your life, Richie. Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning my fucking gutters?”

The smile on Richie’s face faltered slightly, his eyes looking sharply back at Bill. “Well, I am very sorry to disrupt you, _your highness._ I’ll get back to my servant duties now.”

The chair made a harsh noise as Richie stood abruptly and Bill did not miss the way Richie squeezed Eddie’s shoulder as he walked out of the library. 

“Why’d you say that, Bill?”

Bill snapped his head back towards Eddie. “Excuse me?”

As if regressed back to his middle school shyness, Eddie couldn’t look at Bill as he fingered the page on his book. One of his hands still hung over his face like an awning, as if he were trying to hide. “That was a really cruel thing to say. You talk to him like he’s _less_ than us.”

“Eddie, you need to stick up for yourself more,” Bill huffed, ignoring Eddie’s statements. “The way he talks to you sometimes makes me sick. And you damn well know something is off about him. He’s probably a queer; that’s why he touches you like that. When I’m not around, don’t let him do that.”

Bill didn’t need a clear look to see how embarrassed Eddie was by that statement. The blush in Eddie’s cheeks crept all the way down to his neck, obviously uncomfortable. _Richie_ was doing this to him, that fucking creep. Making Eddie confused and upset. He had no fucking right.

“Just promise me you’ll stay out of it, Bill,” Eddie mumbled, still keeping his face down. “I can take care of myself. If he says anything to you, just leave it be.”

So that’s what Bill had planned to do. That’s what he _wanted_ to do. But that protective nature was dormant under his skin. So when Richie came by later in the evening while Eddie was upstairs, Bill bent the truth just enough to make sure he knew Eddie could be safe. Not letting Richie in the door, Bill told him Eddie wasn’t home.

“Oh,” Richie replied, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His other hand was clenched onto an envelope with Eddie’s name on it. “Well, uh… when will he be back?”

“No idea,” Bill said. “But I’m pretty busy. So you’ll understand, I’m sure, that you can’t stay here.”

“Right… ok, well, can you… can you give him this,” Richie stammered, thrusting the envelope towards Bill. “He can call me later. I’ll be home.”

“Sure thing,” Bill smiled tightly, taking the letter. “Later, Richie.”

Without waiting for a reply, he shut the door in Richie’s face, running immediately towards the living room. As Bill’s luck would have it, the letter was not sealed. He gingerly lifted the flap to the envelope and pulled the sheet of paper out, eager to bear witness to it’s containments. He did his best to unfold it without making a dent in the paper, curious what Richie would think to send his little brother in the form of a _letter._

It was worse than Bill thought.

A single, grotesque sentence that confirmed all of Bill’s fears.

> _I want my mouth on your sweet, pretty cock_

What the _fuck_ kind of sicko would give something like this? Was Richie hoping to torment Eddie without Bill noticing? Was he _intending_ on making this letter come true? What would he —

“What’s that?”

Bill jumped, turning on his heel to see Eddie entering the living room. He wasn’t watching Bill, focused instead on picking up some glasses they had left in here this morning to take them into the kitchen.

“I thought we checked the mail already.”

“We did, uh… this is for you. Richie just brought it over.” As carefully as he could, Bill folded the letter as he handed it to Eddie, quickly sticking the envelope in his back pocket before Eddie could see that Richie penciled Eddie’s name on it. “I think this must be for you.”

“Oh, thanks.” Eddie stacked the glasses to balance them single-handedly so he could take the letter from Bill’s hands. Bill watched carefully as Eddie shook it open and peered into the contents. As Bill suspected, his eyes grew wide in shock, his face turning as crimson as his sweater.

“What’s it say?” Bill asked casually.

Eddie gaped his mouth like a fish for a moment. His hand shook slightly before he crumbled the letter up into his hand. “Nothing. Nothing important.”

“You sure?” Bill pried.

“Positive. I’m going to clean up the dishes.”

Bill scowled at the back of Eddie’s head as he disappeared into the kitchen. This wasn’t _safe_ for Eddie to allow such behaviors to continue. If Richie were to dare show up here again, Bill wasn’t going to keep his mouth shut. Part of him could almost understand Sonia’s need to protect him. He was small, meek, and delicate… too susceptible. Easy prey.

But as long as Richie didn’t step foot past the doorway tonight, there was no need to ruminate on such things.

The rest of the night was fairly quiet. Eddie refused to eat dinner with Bill, claiming he wasn’t hungry. So Bill retired to his room to write. Getting lost in his stories was one of the only ways he could escape the feeling of losing control. He didn’t want to push it, but he knew Eddie was feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable. Probably even afraid. God only knew how he would be when Richie came back around. All of his thoughts were spiraling and making it difficult for Bill to concentrate. Looking for some more inspiration and a distraction, Bill got up from his typewriter to stretch his legs.

The only things Bill could hear when he went downstairs were the faint giggles of children down the street. He walked over to the front window to peer out past the curtain. Mr. Gray, their landlord, was talking to some parents whose children were playing in the street. It was hard to tell, but Bill was sure Georgie may have been there somewhere, playing with Avery Hockstetter. _His_ brother was another unsettling creep, but at least Bill never had to worry about him in this house.

Just as Bill was about to go into the kitchen, his foot bumped into a shoe on the floor. He looked down to move it out of the way, but seeing what it was made him freeze.

Richie’s boots.

“What the fuck…”

The doorbell didn’t ring. No knocks were heard from the door. Did he come inside on his own?

Richie _did_ have a key to all of Mr. Gray’s properties. Would Bill really put it past him _not_ to come right on in?

Bill hadn’t heard anything upstairs. He hadn’t heard the floorboards creak or any doors open while he was up there. The only other place he could be would be the kitchen or the library, lest he had gone to the backyard. But Bill decided to try the last place he had seen Richie. He hoped for the best case scenario, opening the door to the library and finding Richie’s giant frame lounging on their chairs and reading a comic book.

Only as Bill grew closer, he could hear… _whimpering._ Faint whimpering which sent panic coursing through him, causing him to push through the door in haste.

It was Eddie.

Eddie was whimpering.

And Richie… _Richie_ was pinning Eddie’s hands up above his head and forcing him into the bookshelves, his hand tucked between their bodies and Bill, Bill saw _red_ , saw Richie’s hands where they weren’t supposed to be, saw Richie _violating_ Eddie in his own house, the house that was supposed to be _safe._ Eddie looked terrified, his eyes looking pleadingly to Bill, who ran into Richie without hesitation and shouldered him off of Eddie. He heard Eddie fall to his feet beside him, but his rage towards Richie briefly took precedence over anything else.

“You keep your goddamn hands off of him, you fucking queer!” Bill shouted, throwing his fist into Richie’s face. He felt Richie’s glasses _crunch_ and the glass from his lenses cut into Bill’s knuckles. “I fucking warned you!”

Before Bill could hit Richie again, he heard Eddie scamper out of the room. Richie had the _audacity_ to look concerned, but Bill was only able to turn in time to see Eddie’s back exiting the doorway. 

“Look what you did!” Richie shouted, lifting his hand to his bruising face.

“Look what _I_ did?” Bill screamed back at him. “You keep the _fuck_ away from him! I am not _asking_ this time!”

 _“Fuck you, Denbrough!”_ Richie hissed, shouldering Bill as he passed.

Bill debated going after him, but if the monster was leaving, he had to check on Eddie; find out what Richie had _done_ to him when Bill couldn’t be there to protect him.

Except Bill couldn’t find Eddie. No where in the house rested any sign of Eddie’s presence. Bill called his parents across town when he gave up looking around the house, asking them to just call him should Eddie turn up to see them. 

“Shit!” Bill slammed the phone down. He shouldn’t have hit Richie first. He was already _away_ from Eddie after Bill threw him off; Bill should’ve talked to Eddie _first,_ made sure he was all right before charging at Richie. In his haste, he had chosen revenge before he had even comforted the person he was seeking to cause pain for.

The phone rang not long after Bill spoke to his parents. His anger was finally starting to subside and he picked up the phone with hope to hear Eddie’s voice.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Billy.”

“Georgie?” Bill replied, sitting back down in his armchair with the phone cord stretched out. “Hey, buddy.”

“Billy, can I come over?” His voice was so small and broken and Bill could sense he was trying to hold in a sniffle. 

“Oh, uh… sure, Georgie… are you ok?”

Another voice was faintly heard on the other end. Then, from Georgie: faint hiccup; a tiny sob. “No…”

“Georgie who’s with you?”

“Eddie’s friend, Richie.”

“Georgie, come over here now,” Bill demanded. “Tell Richie to leave you alone and get over here. Please. I can meet you outside.”

“But—”

“Georgie, please come here. If Richie gives you any problems, just tell him I’m coming to meet you.”

Georgie let out a shaky sigh. “Ok, Billy. I’ll see you soon.”


	2. Eddie & Richie: Forgotten Letter

*******

**Eddie**

As far as Eddie Kaspbrak was concerned, he had already met the love of his life. It made no difference to him that it was another boy. Nor did it matter that, technically -- and the world would remind him this constantly -- they would never be able to do something as simple as get married. 

It started with playfulness when they were kids, jokes that Eddie desperately pretended to  _ hate, _ until he just couldn’t anymore. At least not when it was just the two of them. Whenever Richie would tease him or pinch his cheeks, he’d shriek and push away, only to have a smile plastered on his face in a fit of giggles. When they got older, Richie would try to keep his hands to himself, but Eddie just couldn’t  _ help _ but pester Richie until he  _ couldn’t. _ Any reasons to get Richie’s hands back on him.

“Bill is gonna kill me for that,” Richie once said remorsefully, helping Eddie up off the ground after accidentally tickling Eddie into a fit. “Your knees are all scabbed up.”

“What Bill doesn’t know won’t hurt anybody,” Eddie smiled up at him, relishing in Richie’s big hands on his arms.

As they got older, the feelings only grew more intense. Hiding it from Richie physically  _ hurt.  _ Despite the fluttery feeling of joy in his chest whenever Richie came around, Eddie couldn’t bring himself to tell him the whole truth. How could he? He’d heard it all from a young age. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t natural. It was an abomination.

But how could loving someone so sweetly be an abomination?

Eddie knew it was love, knew he was feeling for Richie the way he had always been told he would feel for a woman. In secret, he’d tell Richie he didn’t mind anything he did. In the eyes of witnesses, that just couldn’t be. It almost seemed as if Richie knew why, but they had never brought it up. He continuously tolerated Eddie blushing and pushing him away, despite Eddie begging him later  _ don’t stop. _

Hiding it from  _ Bill _ was a whole different thing. Eddie wanted to believe so badly that Bill would be happier to accept the truth. Until he voiced his real reasons for his immense dislike of Richie; he acted like a  _ queer. _

Would Eddie want to risk his best friend thinking that way about  _ him? _ Since he hated Richie just from the possibility that he could want to be with Eddie  _ that way, _ how would Bill react if it were the way Eddie felt, too? How would he react to his self-proclaimed little brother being the very thing he hated?

It couldn’t be worth the risk.

*******

**Richie**

“Get all your silliness out.”

“I’m sorry?” Richie asked, looking up from his typewriter to stare at his father incredulously.

“I know your love language is coated in jokes,” Wentworth smiled. “But considering how unorthodox this is… maybe try your best to be sincere.”

“I’m  _ trying _ to be sincere, so why are you telling me to be  _ silly?” _

“Type up the goofy stuff first to get it out of your head. You’ll feel better. Then you’ll have nothing left but the unfiltered truth. It’ll flow out easier.”

“I guess so…” Richie murmured, staring back at the blank page. 

“I know you’re scared, buddy,” Wentworth said earnestly. “I wish we lived in a world where you didn’t have to play secretive with your feelings… like they’re wrong. But I have no doubt that he feels the same.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Richie asked quietly. “If he thinks I’m disgusting?”

“Eddie is a good kid. He’s a good friend. I don’t believe he’d ever think something like that.”

“Fair enough,” Richie sighed.

So he stewed in his thoughts, trying to process all these pesky  _ feelings _ bursting inside of him. He tried to write over and over, but it all sounded like Shakespearean horseshit, frankly.

Maybe he  _ does  _ need to get the silliness out.

_ I want my mouth on your sweet, pretty cock. _

Richie giggled childishly as he yanked the paper out, staring at the bold, serifed letters. As silly as it was, it was also a quiet truth he thought to himself many late nights. But he wasn’t ready for  _ that _ conversation yet. Not sincerely, he doesn’t think. It’s not like the birds and the bees talk covered anything like this.

And he certainly couldn’t send  _ this _ in his letter.

“Fuckin’ A,” Richie chuckled, tossing the paper to the side on his desk.

To his great surprise, his dad had been right. Once he got his nerves out in giggles, Richie was able to write more honestly.  _ Express _ himself. It was honest without being overdone and Richie had a full page of confessions out on display in front of him by the time he was finished. A small part of him wanted his mom to look it over, but this was for Eddie. 

Before he could leave, Richie ran downstairs to get an envelope. With the letter neatly tucked away, he penciled Eddie’s name just in case Eddie wouldn’t be home. He had  _ hoped _ he’d be home, but… Maybe he could save himself from face to face humiliation and let Eddie stew in it? At least Richie wouldn’t have to see Eddie  _ laugh  _ at it or get offended, should that be the case.

Bill answered the door, his face stern and his voice cold. It was fine that Eddie wasn’t home. By the time Richie had walked back to their house, he was close to throwing up from anxiety. So this was probably for the best. Bill could give it to Eddie to read in the library and possibly never talk to Richie ever again. Give him nasty sneers whenever Richie came by to clean their gutters or mow their lawn. That would be fine.

God, maybe he shouldn’t have done this.

“How far did you make it?”

Richie froze in the foyer, looking at his mother where she sat on the couch. “Huh?”

“How far did you make it before you realized you left the letter here,” she smiled up at him. She held her hand up, showing an envelope with a paper stuffed inside. 

“Oh geez, mom, you didn’t read it, did you?” Richie groaned, worried for his mothers sake that she didn’t read the little  _ smut _ he had written.

“No, honey,” she told him, still smiling kindly at him. “I know who it’s meant for.”

_ Yeah, the fucking incinerator, _ Richie thought to himself. He took the letter from her, pulling out the paper to look at it ruefully and was met with further confusion.

It was his long, detailed love letter to Eddie in its entirety. How on earth did he possibly leave it here? Hadn’t he just given Bill --

_ I want my mouth on your sweet, pretty cock. _

“Oh, FUCK!” Richie shouted, bolting towards the front door. Oh god. Oh christ. Oh fucking  _ no. _

“Please don’t read it,” Richie gasped as he ran back towards Eddie’s house. “Please god don’t fucking read it.” His feet hit the pavement so hard that his brain rattled in his skull. He doesn’t think he’d run this fast if he was set on  _ fire. _

He doesn’t have to hope Eddie is the one to answer the door. Eddie is already outside on the porch. His face looks calm as Richie slows to a steady pace, clutching his chest and trying to catch his breath.

“Hi,” said Eddie quietly. 

“Hi,” Richie said back. His voice is just air still. “How, uh… how are you?”

Eddie cocked his eyebrow up at him in response. Richie sighed, bending over to rest his hands on his knees. Without a word, Eddie got up and went back into his house, leaving the door open behind him for Richie to follow. Richie almost forgot to take his boots off at the front door, but kicked them away just at the stairs before closing the door gently behind him. Eddie had kept walking, looking back at Richie as he entered the library. So again, Richie followed. 

The silence was killing him. Eddie just wasn’t  _ speaking. _ He just sat back against one of the book cases, staring at Richie with his arms folded. Waiting for Richie to speak.

“You weren’t supposed to read that.”

“What was I meant to read?”

“It was supposed to be more, uh… formal. Something less…”

“Anatomical?”

Richie couldn’t help but let out a nervous chuckle. “Sort of, yeah. I just… There were supposed to be a lot of…”

With all the times Richie couldn’t keep his mouth shut,  _ now _ it chose to stammer and freeze. Why was this so difficult?

“I think I know,” Eddie said quietly, not taking his eyes off of Richie. “It’s been there for years, hasn’t it?”

Limbs shaking, Richie bit his lip and stared back at Eddie pleadingly. “You know?”

Eddie tilted his head just ever so slightly.“I do.” A pause. “So?”

Richie gulped, trying his best to read Eddie’s face. “So?”

“Don’t you want to see if it’s as pretty as you imagined?”

Richie’s knees buckled beneath the weight of Eddie’s question, his jaw dropping.  _ “What?” _ he breathed.

Eddie reached forward, grabbing the front of Richie’s shirt tight enough that the button threatened to tear off. He pulled Richie towards him as he lifted himself onto his tiptoes, his other hand reaching up to Richie’s neck to bend him down to Eddie’s face until their lips crashed together.

Nothing had ever tasted so sweet. Richie melted into Eddie against the bookcase, his hands gravitating to Eddie’s waist. There was  _ heat _ behind Eddie’s movements, intense and demanding as his hands raked through Richie’s curls, over his chest, around his shoulders. They struggled with the angle until Richie grabbed onto Eddie’s thighs and lifted him up until his butt rested on the shelf behind him. 

Richie’s hands snuck under Eddie’s sweater, undoing the lower buttons on his shirt and untucking it from his waistband. His fingertips grazed Eddie’s skin and Eddie gently pushed Richie away, only to pull him back again, sliding his tongue between their teeth. He kept doing this push and pull, little giggles escaping his lips, until Richie finally realized he was tickling him where his hands were touching his waist. He grabbed Eddie’s hands and held them up against his head to keep him still.

“Is this ok?” Richie breathed.

“Yes,” Eddie whispered. “Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Richie’s other hand trailed across Eddie’s abdomen, his index finger digging under the hem of Eddie’s jeans to undo his front button. Eddie’s breathing became ragged even with Richie only fumbling around the front of their pants. He was just about to tuck a shaky hand down to finally  _ touch _ Eddie, when --

“Wait.”

Richie looked up at those big brown eyes staring at him, shimmering with intensity and emotion.

“You want me to stop?”

Eddie shook his head, swallowing his spit as he tried to find the words caught in his throat. “I… I love you.”

A small fire kindled in Richie’s chest, spreading warmth throughout all of his limbs. “I love you, too.”

He kissed Eddie slow like dripping honey, groaning at Eddie’s small gasp when he finally had his hand around the hardness between Eddie’s legs. Eddie wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist to tuck him there tightly and another moan escaped them both as Richie took out his own cock to rub them together as Richie grinded against him.

_ “Rich,” _ Eddie whimpered. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you, Eds,” Richie whispered back, over and over. He doesn’t think he can get used to saying it. He doesn’t think he can get used to hearing it. He trailed kisses up Eddie’s jaw, pressing his teeth into the soft skin of his neck and eliciting another sweet whimper from Eddie’s throat. He thought for a moment that he was getting Eddie close to that good place, that he was soon going to make Eddie finish as he felt Eddie tense up beneath him. 

All of that was thrust out of Richie’s mind as he was pushed off of Eddie, stumbling to the side as Eddie slipped down to his feet. Bill stared up at Richie in  _ rage, _ his fist clenched at his side.

“You keep your goddamn hands off of him, you fucking queer!”

Richie couldn’t get a word out before he saw stars, a searing pain and  _ crunch. _

“I fucking warned you!”

The only thing Richie could make out in his blurry, teary vision was the look of  _ pain _ on Eddie’s face, the hurt in his eyes as Bill’s words toward Richie cut through him as well. Just as Bill lifted his fist, Eddie ran out of the room in shame.

“Look what you did!” Richie shouted, lifting his hand to his bruising face. Nothing was bleeding, but it was already sore.

“Look what  _ I _ did?” Bill screamed back at him. “You keep the  _ fuck _ away from him! I am not  _ asking _ this time!”

_ “Fuck you, Denbrough!” _ Richie hissed, shouldering Bill as he ran off towards Eddie. 

Eddie was hiding from  _ Bill;  _ there was no way he’d stay in the house. He ran off, leaving the monster behind in the library. He had to check on Eddie; find out how badly Bill had hurt him when Richie wasn’t quick enough to defend him.


	3. Bill & Richie: What Happened To Georgie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for coming back to this little side project I’m making myself sad over <3

*******   
  
**Bill**

Georgie never came home.

Something was  _ wrong, _ and Bill couldn’t reach Georgie or Eddie anywhere. Despite their best efforts looking, Zach and Sharon could not find their youngest son on the way over to Bill’s. As a last resort, Bill called Mr. Gray and asked him to look for Richie while they called the police. The neighbors politely suggested that they may have been overreacting, that kids in the neighborhood go exploring all the time. 

But this was different. Bill could feel it in his gut.

Not long after calling the police, Mr. Gray pulled up in his van with Richie and Eddie. Bill felt heat in his stomach knowing that something horrible may have happened to  _ both _ of his brothers, all because of this  _ filth _ pulling up to his house. He did not hesitate to shout at Richie, shoving him up against the side of the van and keeping his hands fisted in Richie’s shirt.

“What the  _ hell _ did you do to him,  _ huh?” _ Bill shouted, spit flying in Richie’s face. “Couldn’t get your rocks off hurting Eddie, so you had to go for someone smaller?”

“Bill, get off of him!” Eddie begged. His voice was shaking and Bill couldn’t understand why he was trying to  _ defend _ Richie, why he was so goddamn scared of Richie when Bill was  _ right here to protect him. _

“Where did you find him?” Bill spat.

“We’ve been by the bridge the whole night, I swear,” Richie stammered. Bill scoffed, not believing a word of it.

“It’s true!” Eddie cried. “Please Bill, we don’t know where Georgie is!”

“Georgie was  _ with him!  _ He told me!”

“Who told you?”

“Georgie!” Bill almost wanted to  _ laugh _ at the way Richie’s eyes shifted nervously, the look of someone  _ caught.  _ He released his grip from Richie’s shirt, stepping back and gesturing to him. “Why don’t you tell him?”

“I wasn’t with Georgie long,” Richie muttered, looking back and forth between him and Eddie. “I swear, I just saw him for a minute.”

“You did?” Eddie asked, surprise in his face.

“I  _ told  _ you,” Bill huffed angrily. “But you’re still not telling me why Georgie was  _ crying, _ Richie.”

“Easy, Mr. Denbrough,” Mr. Gray tutted, gripping Bill’s shoulder with a wet, sweaty palm. “I’m sure Georgie will turn up. I don’t think Mr. Tozier had any ill intentions. Sometimes his mouth just keeps yapping and he doesn’t realize what he’s saying.”

“He knows exactly what he’s saying, I guarantee you that,” Bill said darkly, narrowing his eyes at Richie.

It was nearly midnight when an officer came by. His hat was off and flat against his chest in respect, sorrow in his eyes before he even had to speak. Not a word was spoken before Sharon burst into tears and Bill’s heart dropped in his chest, knowing what he was going to say before he said it.

Sharon begged to see Georgie as Zach held onto her shoulders firmly. But not now, they said, there was  _ too much blood. _ Too much evidence to collect.

Sharon cried harder.

Richie sat in silence, his hands gripping the armrests firmly as Eddie stared off into space with wide eyes. Both were in shock, it seemed. But Bill knew Eddie was in disbelief over what happened; Richie was just hoping to God he wouldn’t get caught.

_ “What did you do?” _ Bill shouted at him; angry over what happened, angry over Richie’s lack of reaction. 

“I didn’t — I didn’t do anything,” Richie said quietly. “I didn’t… do anything…” Part of him almost sounded  _ unsure, _ and Bill was close to smacking the sense into him. He wanted to keep being angry, push all the other emotions trying to erupt in his chest away, push away the sound of his mother crying, the pictures in his head of what Georgie had looked like, what he must have  _ felt… _

“The weapon used was a Stiletto switchblade,” the officer said quietly. “Black handle with a silver strip down the middle.”

Eddie’s head snapped up to Richie, whose face drained of color; Bill didn’t miss his hand automatically reaching for his pocket. 

“Do you have something to say?” Bill hissed. Richie gaped up at him like a fish.  _ Caught. _

“That’s not unlike the blade I gave Mr. Tozier…” Mr. Gray said quietly, looking over at Richie with concern.

“This piece of shit attacked Eddie today,” Bill shouted at the officier.

“Bill, stop!” Eddie cried, but Bill wasn’t having it. It was far too late to accept being indifferent now.

“I didn’t do anything…” Richie said again quietly;  _ unsure. _ Guilt was seeping through him so thickly that Bill could  _ smell _ it.

“Can you not fucking help yourself?” Bill spat at him.

There was too much for the cops not to question it. Richie didn’t even argue. Only Eddie cried and tried to keep him here, saying over and over that Richie did nothing.

“I did do nothing,” Richie mumbled, his hands behind his back for the officer to handcuff him. “Maybe that’s the problem…”

“Richie, what are you  _ talking about?” _

“Best be careful not to say too much, Tozier,” Mr. Gray offered sadly. “Wait for your lawyer at the station.”

“Stop defending your  _ employee,” _ Zach demanded angrily. 

“We’ll take care of it,” the officer assured them.

“Don’t forget to ask him about his track record with the rest of my family,” Bill told them. “He’s never been able to keep his hands to himself.”

Maybe the finality of what happened to Georgie was sinking in for Richie. It certainly wasn’t for Bill; not yet. His rage was too great to feel it yet, to fully grasp how  _ hurt _ he was by what had happened. But Richie knew, and something like remorse was on his face as he was placed in the back of the wagon, looking up at Eddie almost apologetically where he was crying on the porch.

“They’ll find out the truth,” Bill assured Eddie after the police had left, after his parents had followed them to the station to identify the body they had found. “We’ll get to the bottom of his and Richie will be put away and he’ll never upset you again.”

At first, he wasn’t sure if Eddie was going to say anything. Without looking up at Bill, eyes fixated on the road in front of their home, Eddie sniffled and clutched his jeans tightly.

“I hate you, Bill.”

*******

**Richie**

Eddie was  _ fast. _

It was impossible to say for sure where Richie would find him. At a certain point, Richie had to quit running and massage the stitch at his side, sauntering down the street aimlessly. The one place he  _ might _ go seemed risky, but Richie thought that he may have to go down to the bridge in Bassey Park.

On his way there, Georgie Denbrough was sitting on the sidewalk, his small face in his hands. As Richie approached, he realized Georgie was crying.

“Hey, buddy,” Richie said softly, trying not to startle him. “Are you ok?”

Georgie sniffled and looked up at Richie with shimmering eyes, his cheeks swollen from his tears and what looked to be faint, oncoming bruises. “No,” he croaked.

“Shit, what happened?”

“Avery,” Georgie said. “He — he got mad at me while we were playing and he — he called his brother out and his brother called me all these — these mean things and hit my face…”

“Patrick Hockstetter? That fucker.”

To his surprise, Georgie giggled a little bit, but quickly resolved back into his crying. “I wanna see Bill. Is he home?”

“Yeah, he is. You wanna call him? I got a dime. You can let him know you’re on your way and I can walk you back.”

He helped Georgie up and walked the two blocks back up the road to the payphone. He dialed the number before handing the phone over to Georgie who took the receiver in his tiny hands.

“Hi, Billy,” Georgie said quietly when Bill must’ve picked up. There was a pause as Bill replied. “Billy, can I come over?”

Though muffled against Georgie’s ear, Richie could faintly hear Bill asking Georgie if he was ok.

“You don’t have to go into it now,” Richie said quietly. “Tell him the truth and talk to him about it when we get there, ok?”

Georgie nodded through a hiccup, sobbing a little bit. “No…” he told Bill. Then, “Eddie’s friend, Richie.”

Bill’s voice became louder through the speaker, Georgie’s face wrinkling with concern.  _ Shit. _

“But—” Georgie paused, pursing his lips before letting out a shaky sigh. “Ok, Billy. I’ll see you soon.” He hung up. “Bill doesn’t want you to take me home, I don’t think…”

“No, I bet he doesn’t,” Richie mumbled. 

“I don’t want to walk by myself,” Georgie said quietly. “What if Patrick comes back out and finds me? He’s so  _ mean, _ and he has fun hurting things. It’s gross.”

There was no way Richie could spread his energy out between Georgie and Eddie. Eddie was alone somewhere right now and Georgie was going to be back with Bill soon. Eddie needed him more right now. “You can always hurt him back.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Georgie said.

“Then just make yourself look scary enough to do it,” Richie explained, pulling out his switchblade. “Here. Take it and scare him off with it if you need to. You’ll probably be fine. You’re not far from Bill’s and I’m sure he’s waiting right on the porch for you. He’ll see you the second you turn the corner.”

“Ok…” Georgie mumbled, taking the knife from him. “Thanks, Richie.”

“No problem, kid. Just hold onto it. Don’t go pulling it out if you don’t have to.”

Richie watched Georgie walk a bit before turning back to find Eddie. Just as he had suspected, he saw Eddie sitting on the ground, legs overhanging beneath the wood siding overlooking the river beneath the bridge. His forehead rested against the planks, staring down at the rushing water between the spaces.

Trying to avoid saying something stupid, Richie bit his tongue and slid his longer legs beneath the siding besides Eddie, resing his arms on the edge and looking over at him. 

“We shouldn’t have done that,” Eddie finally said after a while.

“Why? Because of Bill?”

“Not just Bill,” Eddie mumbled. “Everyone else.”

“Not everyone,” Richie told him quietly. “My parents knew.”

“They did?” Eddie asked incredulously, finally looking up at him.

“You know, my uncle Fred shares a cabin in Washington with his partner, Connor,” Richie said. “My dad never had a problem with his brother being, you know… like that. Didn’t mind that his son was, either. He just wants us to be happy. That’s all that should matter.”

“It’s not, though,” Eddie said sadly. “People… people would  _ kill _ us if they knew…”

“They don’t have to know. I hate hiding, but… honestly, Eddie, you’re the only one who matters. We can get some pointers from Fred. Find a little cabin to live in somewhere.”

“What about school?”

“You can keep going to school. Honestly, it’s perfect. Just say you’re… focusing on your studies. No one questioned Einstein!”

“Einstein was married, Richie… Twice.”

“Wait, really?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but Richie was happy to see the faintest of smiles growing on his face. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously and hopelessly in love with you.”

“Cut it out.”

“Why? No one is around…”

Eddie looked over his shoulder, confirming that they were, in fact alone. It wouldn’t be so bad to share a couple hours alone here… reminiscing over all of the childhood memories of them being obliviously smitten with each other. Tell one another all the secret truths they had been too afraid to speak about before. They could have a lifetime together once they figured out how, but for now… for now, they just wanted a few hours. Eddie leaned forward, his small hand on Richie’s cheek as he kissed him gently. His lips curled into a smile against Richie before looking back up at him with delight in his eyes.

“I love you, Rich.”


	4. Eddie: Goodbyes in the Closet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we find a bit of a time jump from Eddie's POV. Perhaps Bill's will be next?

*******

**1969**

It was unreasonably crowded outside the cafe for a Monday morning. The holidays had ended and Eddie was hoping tourists from the south who had come to Maine to enjoy the Christmas scenery would have gone home by now. The January air was harsh against Eddie’s cheeks as he stood outside, bouncing on the balls of his feet. People filtered in and out of the cafe door, warmth from inside gently blowing the back of his neck each time the door opened.

His eyes kept darting around, trying to find the messy mop of hair he had grown accustomed to seeing since shortly after Richie was arrested a few years ago. There weren’t many chances for him to get a haircut, and he had admitted to being terrified to go up to anyone in his prison with a pair of scissors in their hands.

“Can’t you even buy a brush?” Maggie asked him.

“Everyone steals my stuff, mom. No one likes a child predator; not even prisoners.”

“Don’t call yourself that…”

“It’s how they see me, mom,” Richie told her. “Everyone here can tell you they’re innocent. It doesn’t matter.”

“That Hockstetter kid should be in here,” Went growled angrily.

“How do we know it was him?” Eddie had asked.

“After what Richie told us from that night, I can’t imagine it was anyone else.”

“If it was Patrick then it was still my fault…” Richie mumbled. “I shouldn’t have let him have the knife. It probably only egged him on…”

“We can’t think about that stuff,” Eddie interrupted, feeling sick to his stomach. “It’s bad enough I still have to… have to see Bill’s face in school and remind me about Georgie constantly.” 

It was selfish to say, considering Richie  _ lived _ in his own constant reminder of what happened to Georgie, but he didn’t argue. He just smiled at Eddie across the table and said, “Sure, Eds. I’m sorry.”

“What’s the deal your lawyer is offering the court?” Wentworth asked.

Richie sighed, looking down at his hands folded in his lap. “Well, they think they can bring my sentence down to just a year instead of five… it’s just not gonna be here.”

The Tozier’s and Eddie all looked amongst each other in confusion, but Richie told them that it was for the best, whatever it would be. They just had to trust him.

Last time he saw Richie, he was still in his prison garments. They didn’t let him wear a suit to his resentencing hearing. Maggie had gotten it pressed for the occasion and was distraught that it just hung up pointlessly in the back of Went’s car. Instead, they had to watch him try his best to be presentable in unkept clothes that the prison refused to let him iron, his hair a mess after a poor attempt of brushing it with his fingers.

So when a tall man in a neat army uniform approached Eddie on the street, he didn’t pay the man any mind until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up and did a double take to the handsome face smiling down at him.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

Without a thought regarding the crowd around them, Eddie flung his arms around Richie’s waist, squeezing him tightly. He could feel Richie tensing, fighting back his desire to hug Eddie back, and instead just patting his back gently.

“Not out here, Eds…”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispered quietly, sniffling as he pulled away to look back up at Richie. “I missed you.”

“I know,” Richie said, looking down at him sadly. “I missed you, too. C’mon, let’s go inside.”

They managed to find a quiet table in the corner. Eddie was torn with joy and heartache, watching Richie take his hat off and place it on the empty chair next to him. 

“I know I shouldn’t think this… but you look…  _ really good.” _

Richie chuckled, his face crinkling and eyes sparkling as he looked back at Eddie across the table. “It’s the uniform. It’s got magical powers. Old ladies keep  _ fawning _ over it. I promise I’m still the same string bean I was since you last saw my shirt off three years ago…”

“You’ve always looked good…” Eddie sighed softly. “How long do you have to go?”

“Twelve months,” Richie said. “A lot better than the five years I would’ve had to finish in prison.”

“At a much higher risk,” Eddie reminded him.

“We’ll see,” Richie smiled sadly. “At least overseas they might not mind me being a child killer…”

“Don’t—” Eddie lowered his voice, leaning forward to talk more quietly. “Don’t say that, Richie.”

“People think it, anyway… Even strangers see me in the uniform and call me a baby killer and I haven’t even gone to ‘Nam yet.”

“You won’t — you won’t have to  _ do _ something like that, would you?” Eddie croaked, feeling a lump in his throat. 

“Eddie, it’s a war. You should  _ hear _ some of the things these soldiers brag about, waiting to go on their second tours…”

“You wouldn’t, though…”

Richie sighed, running his hand through his newly short-cut curls. “No… I couldn’t do anything like that. But I have to play a soldier for a little bit. Just a little bit longer and I’ll be home. Wherever that is, I don’t care. As long as it’s with you.”

“I’ll be done with school in May,” Eddie told him, trying to swallow his tears down and talk about the hopeful things. “Maggie and Went are going to help me find a place, a nice quiet place without neighbors around… Your uncle was even suggesting a little cabin by the sea.”

_ “‘In our kingdom by the sea…’” _ Richie sighed.

Eddie smiled brightly at him. “You read the poems I sent you?”

_ “‘But we loved with a love that was more than love,’” _ Richie continued. “I read everything you sent me, Eds.”

Eddie felt the warmth of Richie’s fingers under the table, gently brushing against his own. It took every ounce of strength in his body not to jump over the table and pounce on Richie right here and now in the cafe. He needed just one moment to be alone with him… just one thing for them to hang onto after Richie left him.

Again.

“How long do we have until you have to leave?”

A broom closet in the local library was not the most romantic of places. But Richie’s departure bus was close by and Eddie was too far from the privacy of the Tozier’s home. This was all they would be able to get, crammed in here with the cleaning chemicals of a janitor who would hopefully not be interrupting them anytime soon.

There weren't many places to sit or hold onto and they struggled with a position while kissing fervently in the dim, flickering light above them. Both of them were so touch-starved and full of longing, they weren’t going to complain. Richie pressed Eddie up with his back against the shelves, not unlike the last time they were able to do something like this, all those years ago…

“Wait, it’ll be easier if you turn me around…”

“I won’t be able to see your face.”

“It’s ok, we’ll make it work, just…” Eddie shimmied his pants down, quickly undoing the front of Richie’s as his own fell to his ankles. He pressed a firm kiss against Richie’s lips before turning on the spot and pushing his ass back against Richie. He couldn’t help but grin when he heard Richie moan at the touch. “See?”

All thoughts of the outside world were finally disappearing. Eddie stood up on his tip-toes, lifting one of his legs up to rest his foot on a high shelf and make it easier for Richie to reach his backside, even run his hand up Eddie’s thigh and make him shiver.

“Don’t forget to spit, please,” Eddie reminded him. “It hurts like a mother without it…”

“How would you know?” Richie chuckled against his neck, planting kisses down to Eddie’s shoulder. 

“I just wanted to make sure it felt ok before I tried it with you…”

“All right, hold on…”

The preparation was more rushed than Eddie anticipated, both of them too desperate for each other. But just a few seconds after the initial burn, his mind sank back into bliss. Feeling Richie against him, on him,  _ inside of him, _ filled him with such warmth he doesn’t think he’s felt before. They moved slowly and clumsily against each other, making the selves squeak.

Eddie was starting to make too much noise and had to slap a hand over his mouth. It was worth it to hear Richie whispering  _ I love you _ ’s in his ear. His large hand reached around to stroke Eddie in sync with the movement of their hips. The motion made Eddie press his ass back into Richie and encourage him to go just a little bit faster. 

However, the inescapable thought that Richie would be gone again popped back into Eddie’s mind. His body fought between the intense pleasure and heartbreak simultaneously. He couldn’t tell if he was sobbing from the heat and sensations Richie was causing, or the knowledge that it was going to be ripped away from him soon. 

Richie’s free hand was flush against Eddie’s chest, holding him tightly against him while he fucked him against the closet shelves, his face buried in Eddie’s neck. Eddie reached back to slide his fingers through Richie’s hair and grip tightly. He could feel Richie’s hot breath against his skin and it only encouraged the heat in his belly to rise until he was spilling into Richie’s hand. It only took a few moments for Richie to chase that feeling and let out a soft grunt into Eddie’s hair before his body relaxed again. When his head rested back onto Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie could feel the wetness from Richie’s tears seep through his sleeve.

They knocked a few things over trying to turn Eddie around, but finally Eddie had Richie snug between his legs where he held him up, resting against each other. They didn’t say anything for a while; just held on and cried and tried to cherish the feeling of being in each other’s arms.

“You’ll come back to me, right?” Eddie cried softly against Richie’s neck. “Don't let me lose you.”

He felt Richie squeeze his thighs, moving his hands up to rub up and down his sides affectionately. “I promise, Eds. I’ll be back. Just be here waiting for me.” Richie kissed him again, soft and just a little bit shaky, wet from their shared crying. “I love you. I’ll see you soon. I’ll be home as soon as I can. I'm probably gonna be in pieces…”

“I’ll put you back together once you’re home,” Eddie whispered, pulling back enough to look Richie in the eyes. “I promise.”

Richie looked down at him sincerely, cupping Eddie’s cheek in his warm hand. “You think we’ll be like one of those love poems you sent me? All the happy endings? If all we have is now and a moment in a library over three years ago, then… I’m not sure... ”

“Bill isn’t finishing our story,” Eddie told him. “It’ll be good, Rich. We’ll get our happy ending. We don’t just have moments. I have you in my heart, always.”

“I’ll come back,” Richie said quietly. “I’ll find you, love you, marry you if I can and we can live without shame.”

Eddie kissed him softly again and rested his forehead against Richie’s. “I know.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits to the poem Richie recited: Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe  
> ...  
> Maybe don't think about that too hard :')


	5. Bill: In the Library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!  
> I actually almost finished this entire fic and dont really beta this one (it’s a quickie, I’m just honestly possessed with this temporarily and wanna get it done so I can work on my other projects) so I might be finishing posting this sooner than I expected!
> 
> Usual tags apply as cw <3

*******

**1969**

Bill was pulled from his thoughts and forced back to reality, blinking his eyes back to focus once Beverly pulled her snapping fingers away. They were in her school library where she was studying for a midterm and Bill was drafting his first novel since graduating back in the spring.

“You still with me, space cadet?”

“Sorry,” Bill mumbled apologetically. “Got a lot on my mind.”

“Are the decorations not inspiring you?” Beverly grinned, gesturing to all the spooky decor still up in the library. Half of them had already been taken down now that Halloween had ended.

“It’s more than that. It’s… today is my brother's birthday.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Two, sort of. But _had_ is definitely… fitting. I don’t see either of them.”

“What happened?” Bev asked. She sounded casual, but Bill could see the concern in her eyes, the curiosity.

“My youngest was killed a few years ago,” Bill confessed to her quietly.

“Oh — god, Bill, I’m so sorry.”

“The other doesn’t talk to me,” he continued.

“Never?”

“Well, I mean, technically he shouted at me in the school corridors sometimes,” Bill smiled sadly. “Only if I thought to try and talk to him though. Or when he realized I was kind of stalking him.”

“Stalking?” Beverly raised her eyebrows at him.

“I just like to know he’s safe. It’s hard to do when I can’t… when he won’t let me talk to him anymore.”

“He goes to the college though, no?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So he’s an adult. Why do you need to watch out for him?”

“It’s… complicated.” How does he explain to her that Eddie is susceptible? He can’t and won’t _out_ Eddie to her, but deep down he knows it’s part of the reason Eddie is so vulnerable. Evil men can sniff it out on him, just like they might do to a girl walking alone at night. Or even a little boy just trying to walk to his brothers house in the evening. Richie is halfway across the world, but that doesn’t mean Eddie can’t get trapped in another monster's web. It was one of the reasons Bill had taken a job on campus after graduating; Eddie was still on campus working with a professor in order to gain some experience as an apprentice and Bill knew that if he stayed, too, he could keep an eye on him.

“I think he’ll be just fine, big brother,” Beverly teased. “You have to learn to let people grow up and make their own decisions.”

“I think he might blame me for a lot of things,” Bill told her. “For my younger brother… for what happened to the man who killed him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He thinks it was unjust. That I accused the wrong person. But he’s in denial because it was someone I think he cared about. _Still_ cares about.”

“What makes you so sure he did it?”

Bill frowned at her, feeling his chest tighten unpleasantly. “What do you mean?”

“What makes you so sure it was the man you accused?” Beverly asked again seriously.

“Because he… it was him,” Bill said simply. “It was his knife that — he was angry at me because he couldn’t hurt Eddie, so he hurt my other brother instead.”

“Is that what he said?”

“No, why the hell would he admit something like that?”

“So how do you know that’s what happened?”

“Why are you defending a child predator?”

_“Shh!”_

Both of them snapped their heads up to a young man with a push cart of books, looking at them sternly. He made a gesture for them to lower their voices before flashing Bill a small smile which — honestly, made Bill feel flustered, a blush creeping on his cheeks.

“Sorry, Mike,” Beverly whispered, turning back to Bill. “Listen, I’m not… I’m not defending anybody. But your other brother — Eddie, you said? — thinks that you had the wrong person, there must be a reason for that. How long was the trial?”

“Honestly, it… it kept being postponed with appeals and stuff,” Bill told her quietly. “His lawyer kept trying to make pleas until they settled on him serving his time in the force instead of prison.”

“So they’re punishing a murderer by letting him murder for the country?” Beverly laughed humorlessly. “That’s nice.”

“I hope he gets killed over there,” Bill muttered, but his stomach felt sick the second the words escaped him. 

“That’s awful, Bill.”

“Wouldn’t you wish that on someone who would hurt a kid?” he said defensively.

“I sometimes wish my father died for the things he did to me,” Beverly said quietly. “I don’t think it changes anything about how I feel. I’d still be left just as bitter and angry. You still never answered my question though.”

“Which?”

“How are you so sure he did it?”

“I just know.”

That question had not just been ruminating in Bill’s head since the library that afternoon. It had been on his mind since the day it happened. Even more so since Patrick Hockstetter had snapped and killed his little brother, Avery last year. 

“He probably killed Georgie!” Eddie had screamed at Bill after they had found out. “How can you go on thinking it was Richie, _when I told you he was with me!_ If Patrick can kill his own brother, why not Georgie?”

“The existence of a murderer does not mean the absence of another,” Bill said. “You weren't with Richie the whole time; he _admitted_ he had seen Georgie, Eddie! He said he had given Georgie his _knife,_ for god sakes. That’s nothing but a bullshit excuse.”

Still, Bill couldn’t help but wonder why Eddie was still so attached to Richie after all this time. Through the grapevine, he found out Eddie would visit the Tozier’s often. Even go visit Richie where he was locked up before sent off to Vietnam. At some point, Bill had even heard Eddie was trying to find a house for him and Richie to live in. He was so adamant about Richie’s innocence and willing to give his life for him.

“It’s just like how he was with his god awful mother,” Sharon assured Bill. “Sonia was a monstrous woman. Abusive as all hell. But Eddie was convinced she loved him and took care of him. Honestly, it’s no different. He’s falling into a cycle of abuse.”

“It doesn’t surprise me he’d find it in a man,” Zach had said. “No father in the home growing up, no male influences… That and his mother taking care of him so aggressively. It’s got him all confused. No woman can take care of him, so he’s gravitating towards a strong male figure.”

But Eddie insisted he didn’t need to be taken care of. Bill watched from a distance, seeing Eddie excel in his classes despite all his stress, working nearly every moment he wasn’t studying so that he could save up money for his future. It seemed like he was preparing himself to take care of _Richie_ once he got home from the war.

Despite his reluctance to backtrack on his statements, Bill had to wonder now if he had made a mistake. His parents insisted that he hadn’t -- said that Patrick had openly admitted to strangling his brother, but denied any such thing happening with Georgie. 

“If he’s willing to admit one murder, why not the other?” Zach had said.

Bill had to agree with that, to a degree. 

When he found out that Richie would not be returning in January, he could see how much it was affecting Eddie. Richie’s tour had been increased another six months, possibly even a year, and a draft was put in place after so many years of fighting. Along with Richie, many other young men would be forced to carry a gun for their country, whether they wanted to or not.

“You and Eddie won’t have to worry,” Beverly told Bill one afternoon. “Since you’re not blood, technically you’re both only children. They won’t send an only child.”

“A lot of people are volunteering to go,” Bill said.

“Fuck that. Fuck the war.”

After her fall semester, Beverly and Bill went their separate ways. Beverly was putting school on hiatus in order to join her friend Ben with a group of people Bill’s parents would refer to as “dirty hippies.” When Bill had said he couldn’t possibly put any energy into something that “didn’t affect him,” they both knew it wasn’t meant to be. 

“Just because it’s not happening to you, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t care.” Those were Beverly’s departing words to Bill and they stuck with him like an adhesive to his brain.

This was especially upsetting when Bill found out Eddie had eventually gone with them.

He wasn’t really sure when it had happened, but at some point Beverly had gotten around to finding and talking to Eddie. She never shared anything Bill had told her, but the two of them had grown close. When the draft-lottery was put in place and Richie’s length of stay overseas had been extended, Eddie began shifting his energy away from his career and into protesting the unjustness of the war. It was quite noble of him, if not a bit delusional. Or at least, that’s what Bill’s parents would say.

Months went by without knowing what was going on outside his little bubble. Bill published his first book with the help of an old professor, but it had quite a few critics.

“The ending is awful,” Mike laughed. “I’m sorry, Bill.”

With all the time Bill had spent in the library, he and Mike had grown close. Mike had usually been there to listen to Bill brainstorm, but had admitted after some time that Bill’s books tended to make him sad. 

“Maybe some sunshine will help,” Bill smiled at him. “I’m moving to California this summer. All that nice weather and sand ought to be good for the psyche.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Mike sighed. “You should send me a postcard when you’re there. Don’t forget about us little people when you’re famous. Try and get that happy ending for me.”

He stood up to stretch and Bill thought he was about to give Bill a pat on the back. Instead, Mike’s large hand lingered on Bill’s shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze as he smiled warmly down at Bill. The warmth of the touch was lingering long after Mike departed, leaving Bill feeling a bit flabbergasted and dizzy.

“I will,” he said to himself quietly.


	6. Stan: Drafted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here comes some pain :))
> 
> as a cw/tw there is some mild violence in this chapter and mentions of blood. war is no bueno.

*******

**1970**

The heat was unbearable. Stanley was more than happy to find his tent and enter the shade of the ugly green tarp. Inside of it was his new roommate, the man he had been dreading to meet. He was sitting on his cot on the right side, cleaning some kind of gun that was on his lap. Stanley had never been around guns, so he wasn’t sure what to call them.

“Hello,” Stanley said when he entered, not sure whether or not to shake the man’s hand. He didn’t really want to, anyway. There weren’t any places to wash his hands.

“Hey, man. Urine, right?”

“Uris…” Stan sighed as the guy chuckled. He was already tired.

“Right, right, my bad. Welcome to Hell. I’m sure you’re thrilled to be in here with me.”

“What do you mean?” Stan said casually, dropping his bag on his empty cot. He wasn’t sure where he was supposed to find linens to sleep on.

“Well, I’m assuming you didn’t choose to be here.”

“No,” Stanley admitted. “I definitely didn’t.”

“Not my choice either, bub. Don’t worry.”

Stanley sat on the edge of the flat mattress, looking across at the man in front of him. He was young, lanky and tall, someone who looked like they were picked on for being a nerd, for sure. There was tape holding the frames of his glasses together and Stan wondered if it was from battle or someone just punching him in the face. He had already heard other soldiers making fun of him outside, either because of his loud mouth or for being a  _ peace lovin’ fairy.  _ The gun on his lap had a wooden hilt with four little lines scratched into the side and R+E etched to the butt of it.

“It’s Richie, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Who’s the E?”

His tentmate froze for a second, the sides of his mouth twitching slightly. “E is my reason for getting up out of this damn bed and making sure I get out of this alive.”

“Girl back home?”

He laughed at Stan’s comment but didn’t say anything else. Stan drummed his fingers on his lap uncomfortably.

“I got married before I came here,” Stan told him. “To my sweetheart, Patty.”

“That sounds nice. I’m sure she’s a doll.”

“I just wanted to make sure she’ll be taken care of if… god forbid. What are the lines for?”

Richie looked up quizzically for a moment before realizing what Stan was referring to. “Kills I got since I’ve been here. Six total.”

He didn’t exactly look happy about saying it, but it still made Stanley’s stomach churn. He didn’t even like killing spiders, preferring to let them outside with a cup. “There’s only four marks.”

Richie turned his gun around to show two other scratches on the other side.

“Why are they separate?”

“Because these two deserved it,” Richie mumbled quietly, pointing to the two marks before going back to his cleaning.

“How… how do you know that?”

“They were child rapists. I don’t need more reason than that.”

“How did you know?”

“Because I pulled them off of kids and shot them on the spot.”

Stan could feel his palms sweating and wiped them on his pants. He reached up to play with the chain around his neck, the one hanging onto the Star of David tucked away behind his shirt. “I really hope I don’t… I don’t want to have to do that. I know it’s unrealistic. But I was always raised to think god would take care of those who deserved punishment.”

“You know, I got knocked out from a launcher explosion. They said my heart stopped for a minute. I believe it, because I saw god.”

“You did?”

“Yeah; he was a fucking turtle. Swear on my life.”

Stanley rolled his eyes as Richie laughed, getting up so he could focus on getting his bed made. Richie got him the sheets and helped show him how to make the bed up without getting screamed at.

“What about the other four?” Stanley asked him.

“Four what?”

“The other men you killed. You don’t think they deserved it?”

“No, I don’t. But unfortunately it’s them or us sometimes.”

“Why do you bother counting them? It feels like you’re keeping score.”

“Not a score. Just keeping track.”

“Why?”

Richie sighed, sauntering back over to his side of the tent. “For my repentance.”

“Your parents Catholic?”

“Lukewarm Methodist,” Richie chuckled. “I’m not really anything. I’ve got the guilt of a Catholic though.”

“Try being Jewish. My parents ingrained guilt in every life lesson I got growing up.”

“Is it because you killed Christ?”

“No, I think that must have been my father.”

And that broke Richie up, bending over in laughter. The two of them went back and forth the rest of the day, dishing and taking it out on each other happily. It was the first thing to put Stanley at ease since he said goodbye to Patty at his train station. Just goofing off with someone he would soon consider his closest friend.

As annoying as he could be sometimes, Stanley found Richie’s presence calming, if not downright necessary. No matter how scary things got, Richie was one of the few people he could trust to bring levity into the situation without it being at the expense of others. Somehow, things didn’t feel so bad over here with Richie around. It was taking a toll on him, Stan soon realized, watching the pain shine brightly in his eyes as he got off a joke or two, trying to shake off whatever horrific thing they had seen that day. 

They had both seen too much death surrounding them in their time there. When Stanley had witnessed a soldier bleed out before his very eyes, holding the poor man in his arms, it was all too much for him to take. 

“There’s a medic coming, buddy,” Stan assured him, despite this being a lie. No one was anywhere near the two of them, unless you counted the dead.

The bullet had gone through his throat, blood gurgling out of his neck when he tried to speak. Stan tried to help him staunch the blood there to keep it from spilling so heavily, but it was a lost cause. As the color drained from his face, his eyes pierced into Stan’s, pleading him for  _ something. _ He lifted a hand and jabbed a finger into Stan’s chest, right above his heart.

“I’ll do whatever you need, I’m right here,” Stan cried, his voice breaking.

The soldier tried to speak, only more blood dripping out of the side of his lips. He pointed at Stan again and pointed to himself and the look in his eyes sort of made Stan understand.

A man desperately wishing he could be in someone else’s arms instead. The arms of a lover.

“I’ll tell them,” Stan told him. “I’ll - I’ll find their name and I’ll write to them and I’ll find them once I can get out of here. I promise.”

A strange calm overcame the man in Stan’s arms as death and acceptance finally overtook him. Stan could only hope his words did enough to let him know: whoever was waiting for him, they would know they were loved.

_ Richie had been the only one to ask if he was ok long after, and the only one Stan allowed to witness his breakdown a few nights after it happened. _

_ “Hey, easy,” Richie said, crawling out of his sleeping bag to where Stanley was kneeling on the ground. Richie helped sit him upright. He took Stanley’s hand and held it up to his own chest, keeping it still with his own hand pressed over it. “Feel my breathing ok? Try and match it.” _

_ “I cuh-cuh-can’t,” Stanley sobbed immediately, trying to yank his hand away, but Richie wouldn’t budge.  _

_ “Yes, you can. Eddie has these all the time; you can get through it. Just focus on the way my chest is moving and breathe with me.” _

_ So Stan did, taking his time to focus his mind on how steady Richie’s chest moved in and out with his breathing. After a few minutes, he was able to slow his own down, with Richie smiling at him encouragingly.  _

_ “See? You just gotta redirect your thoughts, man. I know it’s hard, but you’ll get used to it.” _

_ “I don’t - I don’t  _ want _ to.” _

_ “I know,” Richie replied sadly. “To be quite honest, I’m not - I mean, I usually just cry into my pillow at night when no one can hear me. That seems to help a lot.” _

_ “He didn’t deserve that…” Stan mumbled, letting his hand finally drop from Richie’s chest and relax. “He… he had someone waiting for him, someone who’s going to have soldiers on their porch any day now and telling them he’s not coming home… I don’t care what he’d fucking done,  _ he didn’t deserve that! _ ” _

_ “I know, man…” _

_ They sat together like this in silence for a minute or so, in contemplation and distress. Stan shifted his legs so he could lean back against the bark of a tree and try not to think about his heart still beating erratically. “Who’s Eddie?” _

_ Richie looked confused for a moment and then his eyes went wide behind the thick lenses of his glasses. He shifted uncomfortably and muttered, “No one, just… someone from back home.” _

_ “Is he the E on your gun?” _

_ “Stan, shut up.” _

_ “I won’t tell anyone,” Stan promised quietly. “I don’t care. I kind of… figured.” _

_ “How?” Richie asked, looking a bit terrified. _

_ “The way you talk about him without really talking about him,” Stan explained. “I can feel how in love you are, but… you try to keep him a secret. You’re totally shafted, man.” _

_ Richie nodded sheepishly. “I know…” _

_ “You both seem really lucky,” Stan told him, trying to instill confidence in their friendship. _

_ Richie finally smiled, light erupting in his face. “I am really lucky. Despite everything.” _

_ “I bet he’s dying to see you soon,” Stan smiled in return. _

_ Richie’s smile grew brighter as he leaned his head back to look at the stars. “Me, too.” _


	7. Bill & Georgie: Stolen Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy I’m almost done with this.
> 
> I’m going to credit the story I’m deriving this from in my last end notes (with some spoiler warnings so that this dumb fic doesn’t ruin the movie for you.)
> 
> Idek why I felt a need to write this and make myself sad but here we go.

*******

**1971**

**Bill**

Even worse than the silent treatment was Bill being forced to hold Audra’s hand or waist the entire trip back to his hometown. It’s not like Bill detested her; he just detested their relationship. Neither of them wanted it. But when Bill pulled away after Audra had tried to kiss him in front of his parents, the look in her eyes was  _ deadly. _

“You don’t have to touch me when we’re alone,” she told him later in secret. “I get that you don’t want to. But when we’re in public, I’m your  _ girlfriend,  _ Bill.  _ Act like it.” _

Both of their parents were a lot less demanding of them since they started dating. That was their deal. Put on a show and make face together. One day they might have to get married, but they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. For now, they only had to worry about hand holding and pretending to have googly eyes for each other. 

Mike had wanted desperately to see Bill the next time he was back home. To Bill’s great dismay, Mike had moved on from their quiet town. That was good, Bill thinks. Mike was too good for this place. Bill wouldn’t be back if he didn’t have to be.

At some point, with all the depressing conversation in his parents house, Bill wanted to get away on his own for a bit. Despite the downpour, Bill didn’t bother wearing any sort of raincoat or even bring an umbrella on his walk. Living in California had gotten him used to not needing these things, but he didn’t mind the rain. It never felt right to have a funeral on a beautiful day. 

When Bill approached Mrs. Gray’s home, he offered his condolences to her regarding her late husband. Over the years, Mr. Gray had stored lost belongings to past guests in his properties, just in case any of them should ever return. Bill had been told of some old journals he had left behind and thought it would be the perfect excuse to look through whatever else Mr. Gray had been keeping in his home. 

Whatever he might’ve found of Richie’s.

Shortly after Bill declined a hot tea, Mrs. Gray went out to her patio. Maybe she wanted to drown out the sound of her own sniffling with the rain; Bill could understand that. She certainly didn’t seem interested in riffling through the old belongings that Bill was sorting through.

Bill  _ did _ find some things he had long forgotten about. The old journals were here as promised, filled with dark ideas and pointless stories he was glad never saw his typewriter. An empty inhaler Eddie had stuffed away in a drawer for safekeeping.  _ I know I don’t need it, Bill — it’s just a placebo.  _ A pair of glasses Eddie wore  _ once _ because he insisted his eyesight was not worsening.  _ I can see just fine, Bill. I’ll take aspirin for the headaches. Stop acting like my mother. _ An old pocket watch that never worked, but Eddie deemed necessary to carry around.  _ I’ll get it fixed eventually, stop badgering me about it. _

With half a mind to throw the damn thing away with the inhaler and glasses, Bill inspected the watch a bit, just to see if there  _ was _ anything of value with it. It certainly wasn’t an expensive watch, but Eddie seemed keen on keeping it for many years, regardless. After all these years, Bill had not known the reason until this very moment, opening the case to look at the face of the clock. On the inside of the cover was a small quote etched in the silver:  _ Time brings all pain to pass; I’ll still be with you when mine is gone. Dad. _

A pang of sadness ripped through Bill as he realized it was a gift from Frank. Eddie hadn’t been holding onto it to tell time; just to cherish time he missed with his father. Something eventually helped him let go of the old thing. Whether he had simply forgotten it or purposefully left it behind, he didn’t seem to need to hang onto it any longer. Bill couldn’t help but wonder if the sentiment had been replaced or if Eddie had learned to keep the memories strong without hoarding something in his pocket.

Mrs. Gray had already seemed to be putting her husband's belongings away herself. Boxes laid around the hallway outside of their rooms. Little things were left to the side, maybe things she wasn’t sure she should keep. Her attitude made it seem as if she wanted to purge everything out of the house, cursing it all for bringing her too much pain. It was very much unlike Bill’s parents, who had left Georgie’s bedroom untouched since…

Bill needed to let go. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was holding onto anymore. Rage and sadness still boiled his blood and he cooled it off with a chilled glass of vodka most nights. His anger towards Richie wouldn’t bring Georgie back, even if Bill had been right. All this time wasted on that moment, that memory, and it wasn’t even all that clear anymore. Only the pain remained, and it could have clouded his judgement.

Nothing around the boxes suggested that Mrs. Gray had begun to throw away lost objects taken from their properties; only her husbands. She would probably leave it all be for their old tenants to retrieve so that she could hope for some company. There hadn’t been anything of Richie’s that Bill found, but he supposed Richie had been smart not to leave anything lying around that was his. He had his own house with his parents to leave his things. In fact, the only thing he had seemed to misplace was his own knife; the very one which had ended Georgie’s life.

Who else had Bill seen that night? Patrick had been lurking around, but it drove Bill crazy to think he would be so open about all of his vicious acts except  _ one. _ Why lie about Georgie when talking about his violence brought him so much joy? The only other people Bill could remember were some parents whom Mr. Gray had been talking to.

The memory itself was making Bill sick. It was so simple, but somewhat unnerving. None of them had been tenants of Mr. Gray. Mr. Gray was just friendly with the neighbors, it seemed, kindly talking to them as they watched their children on the street. There was no reason for Bill to feel his stomach in knots and going through these boxes like the way he was now, going through things that did not belong to him on a  _ whim. _

Wasn’t it Mr. Gray’s knife in the first place?

Amongst everything here, it seemed that Mr. Gray was a collector of odd things. Trinkets and such. Buttons and stones. Postcards to no one and odd, empty boxes with silk insides. It was strange to keep empty boxes, Bill thought to himself, looking into each one as if he might find something of interest, something extra peculiar —

Until he did.

A small, tarnished chest laid at the bottom of a box full of ugly dolls. What struck Bill as particularly weird was how large it was compared to what appeared to be the inside. The bottom looked to be only halfway up the chest and it may not have been noticeable to someone who wasn’t  _ looking _ for something noticeable. Bill shook it a bit and felt things shift and his heart flipped in his chest.

With a little bit of prying and pulling, Bill finally got his nails under the siding and pulled the trick-bottom of the chest out to reveal bits of torn fabric. It was odd, certainly, and no more stranger than the other things Bill found here, but  _ why. _ He reached in and gingerly picked up a bit of flannel to inspect it further and dropped it immediately upon turning it. 

On the back of the plaid piece of shirt as a bit of hair.

Each and every ripped piece of clothing had some sort of hair taped to it and Bill just about lost his stomach until he pulled out a piece in particular that made his insides descend into another realm. 

The faintest drop of blood on a bright yellow cloth attached to a bit of auburn hair.

*******

**1966**

**Georgie**

“Bill doesn’t want you to take me home, I don’t think…”

“No, I bet he doesn’t,” Richie mumbled. 

“I don’t want to walk by myself,” Georgie said quietly. “What if Patrick comes back out and finds me? He’s so mean, and he has fun hurting things. It’s gross.”

“You can always hurt him back.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Georgie said.

“Then just make yourself look scary enough to do it,” Richie explained, pulling out his switchblade. “Here. Take it and scare him off with it if you need to. You’ll probably be fine. You’re not far from Bill’s and I’m sure he’s waiting right on the porch for you. He’ll see you the second you turn the corner.”

“Ok…” Georgie mumbled, taking the knife from him. “Thanks, Richie.”

“No problem, kid. Just hold onto it. Don’t go pulling it out if you don’t have to.”

With no actual intention of using it, Georgie slipped the knife into the pocket of his yellow sweater. It seemed weird that Bill wouldn’t want Georgie to walk home with a grown up. Georgie knew that Bill didn’t like Richie very much, but Georgie didn’t quite understand it. Richie was always so nice to Georgie and telling him funny jokes and laughing at Georgie’s not-funny jokes the way a lot of grown ups didn’t like pretending to. Sometimes Georgie wondered if Bill was just jealous of the time Richie spent with Eddie, much like Georgie sometimes got jealous of the time Eddie spent with Bill. 

But Georgie didn’t have to walk alone for too long.

“Hiya, Georgie.”

“Hi, Mr. Gray,” Georgie said politely, stopping in front of the fence where Mr. Gray was leaning over with an odd smile. 

“Where ya going, buddy?”

“Bill’s. I wanted to go see him.”

“Ooooh, Bill. What a good boy your brother is. How is he doing?”

“He seems really upset,” Georgie told him honestly, from what little information he got from the phone call. “I don’t know why, though.”

“You know what? I bet I can cheer him up.”

“You can?”

“Sure! How’s about you and I stop at the store over here and get him something. I’ll take you through the back way through the alley. I own the building, so they’ll let me right in and pick whatever I want.”

“Really? Neato!” Georgie said excitedly.

“What’s that you got in your pocket there?”

“Oh, it’s… it’s a knife Richie Tozier gave me.”

“Ooooh, Georgie, you better let me hang onto that for Richie. You don’t want to hurt yourself. I’ll give it right back to him later when I see him.”

“Oh, sure,” Georgie said, happily handing the thing over to a trusted adult. “Hey! Can we get some candy at the store?”

“Of course,” Mr. Gray grinned, opening the gate to his fence to lead Georgie away. “You know what else? I’ll even get you a balloon if you want.”

“That sounds great,” Georgie beamed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :((((


	8. Bill & Mike: Happy Endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't let the title fool you.
> 
> From the bottom of my heart.... my bad, guys.

*******

**1971**

**Bill**

_The cottage was unbelievably cute. It was the kind of place Bill wished he could escape to. It made him think about Mike again. Mike would’ve liked a place like this, right on the edge of the woods, the sounds of the ocean just outside an open window. This was the kind of place Eddie and Richie deserved to share together; even under the circumstances._

_“I know… I know what I did was terrible, and I don’t expect you to forgive me—”_

_“Don’t worry, I don’t,” Eddie snapped._

_“Eds—”_

“Don’t call me that!” _Eddie shouted. He immediately looked worried, eyes darting behind Bill to what Bill suspected was the bedroom door. It was already midday, but he had heard Richie was prone to restless nights and disturbed sleep since coming back. No one would blame him for such a thing after what he went through. Except they did, because he was still considered a child murderer and still had not made enough amends for those actions. Actions Bill helped accuse him of. Actions Bill understands he never actually did._

_“I’m sorry… I came to apologize. Not ask for forgiveness. I just… want to tell you the truth. Things that I… Things that I started to understand once I was able to let go of my anger.”_

_“I haven’t let go of mine,” Eddie muttered bitterly. “Just so you know. Someone doesn’t come back from prison and war and start cracking jokes like they used to, you know. No one will let him get a job, thinking he murdered a kid. Well, an_ American _kid… They don’t mind soldiers, I guess; just the people who kill kids without a uniform…”_

_“Did he have to…?”_

_“No,” Eddie said immediately. “Never a child. He wouldn’t do that. Although a lot of soldiers over there do. He kept telling me all the things soldiers did for fun over there… to kids, too. People who are going to come back to America and be praised for serving their country by raping and killing civilians… well, except two of them. I guess anger got the best of Richie when he saw that stuff happening.”_

_“I accused him of being a killer and they punished him by making him one…” Bill said softly._

_“Quite the terrible thing you did, isn’t it, Bill?”_

_Bill wasn’t sure what to say, but he didn’t have a chance, as a door swung open behind him._

_“What is he doing here?” Richie asked coldly, stalking around Bill._

_“He wanted to speak to me,” Eddie explained, keeping his eyes moving between them both; looking a bit on edge._

_“Oh yeah?” Richie chuckled darkly, stopping just in front of Bill’s face. “What about?”_

_With a shaky voice, Bill sputtered, “The… the terrible thing I did.”_

_Richie’s nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply; he began to pace madly in the kitchen, forcing a rise of panic in Bill’s chest. Eddie, too, looked worried and gently said, “Richie, hey…”_

_“I’ve gotta tell ya,” Richie said as he came to a stop again, looking at Bill directly. “I’m quite torn between breaking your neck right here or drowning you outside in the ocean. Do you have any idea what it’s like in jail for a child killer? Of course you don’t,” he scoffed before Bill could open his mouth. “Did it bring you joy to know I was rotting in there? To know I was being sent off with trigger-happy psychos into a war?”_

_“No,” Bill said quietly, his eyes brimming with tears._

_“Do you think I assaulted your brother?”_

_“No…”_

_“Did you think I did then?”_

_“Yes…”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Yes and no…”_

_“Well, what makes you so certain now?”_

_“Growing up, I guess…”_

**_“Growing up?”_** _Richie spat. “How old do you have to be to know the difference between right and wrong, huh? How old were you back then? Our age, no? Eighteen? You were_ **_eighteen!_** _Do you have to be in your twenties to own up to a lie? There are_ ** _soldiers_** _of eighteen, old enough to be left to die at the side of the road and tossed aside by our government after being forced into a war they never asked for, others that come back here alive after torturing casualties and children for the fun of it,_ **_did you know that?_** _Do you know what kind of horrific things they asked them to do at eighteen? What monstrous things I saw soldiers do to men, to women,_ **_to children and babies?”_**

_Bill was at a loss of words, simply shaking his head in shame as Richie began to raise his voice._

_“Five years ago, you didn’t give a shit about telling the truth. All you and your family assumed me for was — what, my education, my_ **_queerness?_** _—_ _how I was just some lowly small town homo, never gonna make it, little better than a servant to you, someone not to be trusted. You made sure as hell everyone in the fucking world would think that, too, when they stamped my name on a paper as a child murderer. Thanks to you they were ready to close my case and throw me to the_ **_fucking wolves!”_ **

_In a flash, Richie was lunging towards Bill, and Bill merely closed his eyes, tensing his body in preparation for the attack he knew he deserved. But it never came, and Richie was pulled back, both his wrists in Eddie’s small hands. Eddie was whispering desperately as Richie continued to huff in rage, reaching up to delicately touch Richie’s face._

_“Hey, come back to me,” Eddie said quietly. “Come back to me, baby. You’re here. You’re with me. Stay with me.”_

_Bill looked away at the too-intimate moment, heart broken by how lovingly they stared at each other. How easily Eddie could put Richie in his calm. How lost they could get in each other’s presence. He could hear the faint sound of a kiss and Richie whispering something to Eddie he could not hear._

_“Bill,” Eddie said firmly behind him. “Sit down.”_

_Bill turned, immediately moving to sit at their two-seater kitchen table. Eddie and Richie were still locking eyes with each other as Eddie spoke, gently stroking Richie’s face as Richie cupped Eddie’s cheek._

_“There are a couple of things you’re going to do for us, Bill.”_

_Bill nodded, startling slightly as Eddie finally turned and sat across from him at the small table. Richie leaned forward, both hands on the edge of the table as he spoke quietly._

_“You'll go to your parents as soon as you can. You tell them everything you need to in order to convince them the evidence you gave was falsely against me. Meet with a lawyer, make a statement and get it signed and witnessed. Send a copy to us so we know it’s done, ok? Then, you’re going to tell them everything you can about Patrick Hockstetter—”_

_“Patrick didn’t do it,” Bill interrupted, looking up at Richie._

_“Bullshit he didn’t. He killed his little brother, too.”_

_“Who was it, then?” asked Eddie._

_Bill bit his lip and whispered shamefully, “Robert Gray.”_

_Richie’s jaw dropped. Eddie stared at Bill incredulously before saying, “But Mr. Gray… he… Bill, he’s dead. How…?”_

_“I found evidence in his house,” Bill told them. “It was in a bunch of stuff Mrs. Gray was getting rid of and I peeked at it… After I… afterwards, I realized my mistake, I called you right away. I know I need to go to the police…”_

_“The police,” Richie repeated quietly. “Bill, the evidence is in his house… Where his wife lives. She can’t testify against him… she’s getting rid of the evidence… and he’s_ dead…”

_“Bill,” Eddie whispered. “Just do what Richie told you. Write everything down — nothing but the truth. No implications, no embellishments, no alterations… just the truth. Then… leave us alone. And never speak to me again.”_

_No apologies or atonement would suffice. The damage had already been done to them. All Bill could think to say that mattered now was, “I will.”_

_Richie did not say a word to him as he left. He couldn’t help but stand for just a few seconds in front of their cottage to peer into the window. He saw Richie engulf Eddie in his arms and saw the way they held onto each other. It was pure, absent of whatever horrors they had been through at Bill’s expense. So Bill knew he had to keep his promise, turning one last time to leave them be._

*******

**2016**

**Mike**

Mike beamed at his husband as he sat across from him in their nook. As he always was, Bill was drinking a black coffee and doing a crossword, smiling back up at Mike brightly.

“It took you fifty years,” Mike chuckled, tossing the manuscript on the table. “But you finally wrote me a happy ending. I’m impressed, love.”

“Not fifty,” Bill said defensively. “I don’t count the twenty-seven years we were apart. I didn’t have you nagging me about it for nearly three decades.”

“How terrible for you to be married to me,” Mike sighed. “Well, actually… I do have one complaint.”

“Of course you do. Get it over with.”

“It’s not any criticism of your writing, it’s just… I know how terrible it is for you not to have spoken to Eddie after all these years… Just those years I spent without you drove me crazy. You were always in the back of my mind. You’ve known Eddie since you two were, what, five? You haven’t wanted to bring him up until now, but I know it’s eating you alive.”

The light in Bill’s face faded, looking down at the manuscript with a frown. “You don’t like that they lived happily ever after?”

“Not without you,” Mike confessed. “I know what you did was unfair, but after all these years… you feel such remorse for it still. We haven’t spoken about it once since you left Derry in ‘70, but… I think it would be worth reaching out.”

Bill placed his crossword puzzle down and folded his hands together on the table. “Mike, you know I got first hand accounts of everything I wasn’t present for? Passers by in town, from when Stanley Uris came to visit me after the war… and I tried to write it all down as it was, but I… I had done so much damage with my warped perception and false reality that I didn’t think honesty served a purpose anymore. The truth was too painful.”

“The truth? I don’t…”

“I never went to their cottage,” Bill smiled tightly. “I would have been too much of a coward. But I know what I deserved, so I wrote what I knew _should’ve_ happened, I suppose… certainly I didn’t deserve their forgiveness.”

“Bill…” Mike uttered softly. “They would have. They _might.”_

“I wouldn’t have been able to, Mike. Richie never came back.”

Mike felt his stomach drop, felt the pain in his chest as he processed what Bill had just said. “He… he never…?”

“Stanley Uris came looking for Eddie,” Bill said quietly, staring past Mike and out their kitchen window. “I was visiting my parents when he came to Derry. He told me about Richie getting shot in the neck… dying in his arms. Just a month before he was supposed to come home.”

Mike felt his jaw slacken in shock, unable to look away from the guilt and haunting terror he could still lingering on Bill’s aging face. “Bill, I…” He almost said he was _sorry,_ but that wasn’t quite right. He was sorry, for sure, but his heart ached for someone else. “Were you ever able to… to see Eddie after…?”

“Eddie never found out,” Bill whispered. “He was already dead. We found out he was killed in an anti-war protest before I ever met Stan. Beverly was the one to tell me. She blamed herself for bringing him, but… I knew I was really to blame. Maybe it was for the best that they didn’t know, both thinking the other would live a long and happy life. But neither of them got it… not alone and certainly not with each other.” Mike watched a tear finally drop down Bill’s wrinkled cheek, which he quickly rubbed away. “They had the library. A bridge. A closet. Three moments to be themselves. Then I robbed them of the happy life they longed for and deserved. The least I could do was… give them a happy ending. The one they deserved. Even if it was imaginary. It was the only atonement I was able to give.”

They sat in silence; the most uncomfortable and painful silence Mike can remember in their over twenty years together. He knew Bill kept his suffering buried deep inside of him, allowing Mike to just barely scratch the surface of it unless he had decided to write it in a book. A part of him felt anger towards Bill, but after over seventy years on this planet, he knew he had to let it subside. Instead, a hollow feeling in him remained. He looked down at the pages that sat between them, full of terrible truths and beautiful lies; maybe, Mike thought to himself… maybe he would just have to accept the latter when it was all they had. 

*******

_“It’s going to get cold,” Eddie murmured, snuggling up closer to Richie’s chest._

_“More blankets, then,” Richie chuckled, reaching over and grabbing one to wrap around the fleece already draped around them. As he pulled it up, some of the sand blew into Eddie’s face._

_“Rich!” Eddie giggled. He did nothing else to protest; only tucked into Richie’s lap tighter, keeping his head turned toward the waves breaking on the shore. “C’mon, I’m gonna get sand in my shirt…”_

_“Just a little bit longer,” Richie asked quietly. “Please? Just ‘til the sun goes down. I lost so many sunsets with you.”_

_Eddie turned his gaze away from the glistening waters to look up at the blue he preferred in Richie’s eyes. “Well they’re all yours now. We won’t lose anymore.”_

_“Promise?” Richie smiled down at him._

_Eddie couldn’t help but smile back up at him brightly. “We have all the time in the world now; all we have to do is decide what to do with it.”_

_Richie sighed deeply, wrapping his arm back around Eddie’s waist. “This. I want forever of this. Sand in our shirts and all.”_

_“All yours,” Eddie beamed, accepting the gentle kiss Richie gave him. Despite the night creeping in around them, his chest only grew warmer._

_***_

_AUTHOR’S NOTE BY WILLIAM DENBROUGH_

_This is a work of fiction. While this story may depict historical or factual events, many names or events have been changed or embellished for the reader._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the worst thing I've ever written, I'm sincerely sorry to all readers and fictional characters I've put through this, go ahead and scream at me in the comments or in my tumblr @ fuckbitchesgetreddie :))) I promise all my other fics have happy endings. I don't know what possessed me to turn this sad story into a Reddie thing, but here we are.
> 
> If you wanna cry like a little bitch like I did over this horrible, haunting, beautiful story, please feel free to watch the 2 hour shitfest of sadness starring Mr. Denbrough himself, James McAvoy:  
> SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS*** Atonement (2007) ****SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***


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